


you're more than alright (meet me in the trenches)

by everylosttouch



Series: the dark, the cold, the lonely [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec is not alright, Cutting, Depression, Emotionally Hurt Alec Lightwood, Feeling Distant, Hurt Alec Lightwood, I really didn't know how to end this, M/M, POV Alec, Self-Harm, Supportive Magnus Bane, graphic depictions of self harm, i wrote this at 1am don't @ me, no beta we die like men, thank god for magnus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21691741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everylosttouch/pseuds/everylosttouch
Summary: it's a bad day.Alec crosses a line.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: the dark, the cold, the lonely [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606948
Comments: 9
Kudos: 213





	you're more than alright (meet me in the trenches)

**Author's Note:**

> there's honestly no telling what the fuck this is.  
enjoy? don't? who tf knows.
> 
> //cw: graphic depictions of self harm, emotional distance, depression, etc//
> 
> title from "alright" by keaton henson

It gets bad sometimes.

That itch, that urge, that feeling crawling under his skin. It manifests slowly, like shallow waves against the shore. But it builds, and suddenly he finds himself underwater. Everything is at a distance, in a plane he feels he can no longer reach.

There are voices, people who surround him. Though they’re close physically, their voices are hushed, hidden behind a thick guise of fog. It comes back murky, and he can’t understand the words no matter how hard he listens.

It’s worse when he’s alone. At least in the presence of others, there’s a semblance of sound, even though he can barely make out any words. But alone, alone is the silence that’s far more deafening than he’s comfortable with.

It’s when he’s alone that the guilt and the shame and the endless thoughts of _not good enough _run rampant through his head. It’s the solitude that drives him crazy, that sends his brain into a spiral. The loneliness leaves him desperate for grounding, to prove he has some form of control over himself.

It’s a bad habit, Alec _knows _that. But habits die hard.

And this one doesn’t go down without a fight.

He’s been so good this year. Ever since he met Magnus, things have gotten better. He’s been better, had better days. Hell, he was convinced he _was_ better.

But then the water hits his feet, and his head starts swimming.

Magnus isn’t here. He’s gone on a trip for business, not to return for another four days. And for yet another moment in his life, Alec is alone. He’s alone, with no one to bring him out of this spiral, to breathe air into him when his lungs feel full of water. The silence overwhelms him, his head spinning and spinning.

His nails scrape across his forearm before he even registers it.

There’s a trail of angry red in the wake of his nails. It stings—just barely, and Alec seethes harshly. His mind prickles at the sensation.

_Not good enough._

He runs over the spot again, but the blunt edges of his nails aren’t enough to ease his mind, to shut off the incessant tones in his head or to shut out the horrendous silence of the apartment. His mind remains distant before he traces over the skin again.

This time, it stings.

Alec looks down, watching as red bubbles under the lines of his arm. Somehow, some way, his body had moved on its own, now grasping at the pocket knife Magus keeps hidden in the box on the coffee table. It’s aggressive, the flow of crimson as it bubbles and spills, painting red lines down from his wrist to the thighs of his jeans. It stains the fabric, and Alec can’t help but watch with some sort of surrealism. It’s warm, hot as it slides down his arm. But Alec still feels _cold_, frozen and distant.

_It’s not enough._

His body moves, completely autopilot. Heat blooms from his arms, down to his jeans, painting the light blue fabric with dark crimson red and—

And god, he’s so tired.

He’s exhausted of this, of drowning from no air, of sinking in darkness he can’t see himself out of. He can’t bear the distance, the fact that everyone is just out of arms reach. The silence is too much, and his mind is too loud.

He just wants it to stop.

“—lp,” he hears distantly through the fog. He doesn’t know who it is. Is it himself? What is he begging for? When did it get to the point that he could no longer hear himself?

_God_, he’s too tired to deal with this.

Exhaustion seeps in his bones, eyes growing heavy. He’s tired

So tired.

“—er,” the foggy voice echoes again. There’s a prod at his shoulders, pushing him up—_when did he fall over?_ —and there are touches against his skin, stinging against the fresh cuts to his body. “—lease, —nder,” it pleads. Alec blinks heavily, eyes struggling to open.

Vision hazy, he’s still so tired. But Alec looks, winces up towards the source of the muffled sound. The shape and colors are familiar, and as the mass moves into view, the abstract shapes shift slowly into focus.

_Magnus._

It’s Magnus. _Magnus is here,_ Alec thinks distantly. There’s a sensation of light as his chest surges, but there’s also a weight tied to his bones, anchoring him to the cushions of the couch below. He’s heavy, so heavy.

Alec’s vision clears enough to watch as Magnus rips off the coat from his shoulders, bringing its soft fabric edges to Alec’s carved skin, and pressing. He’s whispering things to Alec in hushed tones, most of which don’t reach his ears. The fog is too thick for him to hear, so Alec’s eyes fall down to the lips that move so gently in their whispers.

_Oh, Alexander._

_I’m so sorry._

_I’m here now, baby._

_You’re gonna be okay._

They’re promises almost, whether to Alec or to Magnus himself, Alec’s not quite sure. It continues like that for a long while, with Magnus’ whispered words and his strong hands pressing the cool fabric of his jacket to Alec’s arms. It’s a long stretch of time before he realizes Magnus’ hands are shaking and his eyes are glistening ever-so-slightly.

_He’s trying to stay calm_, Alec figures, even when his boyfriend is inevitably bleeding out under him.

Seconds, minutes, hours later, Magnus peels away the jacket, eyes hooded with nothing but agony as he takes in the mess Alec has made of himself. There should be a guilt in Alec’s chest, for using Magnus’ precious knife, for dirtying the couch and his jeans, but he doesn’t feel it. It’s too distant.

_That’s enough._

Magnus throws his now-ruined jacket to the side, taking Alec’s left arm his hand gently. He reaches down, fingers gripping onto a bandage that he must have grabbed while Alec was drifting. The silence returns, with the exception of the clocking ticking diligently on the mantle of the bookshelf, accompanied by the seething hiss from Alec as Magnus tends to his wounds.

Alec wants to say something, anything to ease the war that is probably raging in Magnus’ mind. He isn’t dead, just distant, lost to the fog that overwhelms him.

“’m sorry,” he slurs defeatedly. It stops Magnus mid-wrap, dark eyes meeting Alec’s. “Tried,” he adds.

“I know baby,” Magnus consoles. It’s the first sentence Alec has heard clearly in weeks. “I know you tried. You’ve been trying for a long time, haven’t you?” He gives a sad glance, hand pressing to the roughened edge of Alec’s jawline. “I’m sorry for not noticing it sooner.”

“’s not your fault,” Alec counters. “Mine.”

“No, Alexander. None of this is your fault.” He looks back down, wrapping the last bit of bandage around Alec’s arm. “We’re going to get through this, okay?”

Alec gives a heavy nod.

It’s too long to count the amount of ticks from the clock before Alec finds the words to speak again. “’re early.”

Magnus hums then, placing the bandages away once he’s secured them. “They called off the last conference. I’m glad they did because—” Magnus’ voice shakes at that, the first crack of composure Alec has seen since Magnus pulled him out from the fog. His lip trembles and a stray tear falls down his cheek.

It’s then that Magnus’ composure shatters, and there’s a gasping sob that wretches itself from the cavity of his chest, eyes never leaving the bandages on Alec’s arms. Alec wants to reach up to comfort him, but his body still feels so horribly heavy.

“Magnus—”

“I almost lost you,” Magnus cries brokenly.

Alec shakes his head. “’d never leave you.”

The harsh sniffle from Magnus cracks against the otherwise silent room. His gaze shifts upwards, meeting Alec’s eyes once more. There’s an aching misery, an apparent sorrow that Alec knows he’s the reason for. “I love you, Alexander. More than anything in the world. You know that, right?”

Alec nods. “Love you too.”

Magnus leans into Alec’s space then, sealing his lips to Alec’s in a gentle, chaste kiss. “We’re going to get through this,” he starts with conviction. “Promise me that you’ll tell me when it gets bad. I’ll be here in a heartbeat for you, darling. Just—_please—_don’t push me away.”

Alec gives a harsh bob of his head in response. The exhaustion catches up to his form once more, seeping into his skin.

“Tired?”

He hums.

“Okay,” Magnus replies, carefully prying Alec’s back from the couch. “Let’s get you to bed and get to sleep, alright?”

Alec follows Magnus’ gentle nudges, slowly lifting him up and slowly walking—more like stumbling for Alec—to their bedroom. Magnus strips him of the bloodied clothes, tossing them off to the side before stripping himself of his own.

Magnus’ heat molds against Alec’s body, a welcomed presence at his side. As the tiredness pulls at his eyelids, he can’t help but feel a bit more at ease knowing Magnus is here to catch him, to breathe the air into his lungs when he needs it most.

_Tomorrow is another day,_ Alec thinks distantly. And though he will have to face the reality of tonight’s actions, he won’t be alone.

It’s that thought he clings to before he finally drifts off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on twitter @the_biconic_mb


End file.
